[She looks up at the voice, taking in the familiar face. Sokka. Someone she talks with. Someone she doesn't think will hurt her. The knife falls from her hand to the floor. But she remains sitting. There's no reason to stand or to be the polite hostess. It's not like she asked for the company anyway.
She stares at him a few seconds longer, almost thoughtful.] Why are you here?
[action]
She stares at him a few seconds longer, almost thoughtful.] Why are you here?